Her Messy Little Fairytale
by inkalox
Summary: Narcissa's life turns hectic. Bellatrix is a Death Eater, Andromeda's supposedly sneaking around with a mudblood, and now Lucius Malfoy, that prat who's fancied her since first year, is the new Hogwarts champion in the Triwizard Tournament. Slight AU.
1. Once Upon a Time

_This story is slightly AU; I'm aware that the Triwizard Tournament was banned in 1792 and not reintroduced until 1994, so in this era it wouldn't have really occurred. But for the sake of this fic, if it had_, _I'm going to assume the age limit wouldn't have occurred either (since that, too, wasn't introduced until 1994). Lucius is the Hogwarts champion, and he is in sixth year. Narcissa is in fifth, Andromeda is in seventh, and Bellatrix is nineteen and has already left Hogwarts. The fic is from Narcissa's POV. Hope you enjoy :)_

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><p><strong>November 1st, 1970<strong>

It was a peaceful morning in the Great Hall when Avery asked me what I was doing, and I first thought: one, I'm trying to finish my Potions essay (strictly _not _involving anything to do with the Triwizard Tournament, or _that _boy who just became Hogwarts champion last night); two, attempting to ignore any and all mention of said Triwizard Tournament or Hogwarts champion; three, constantly glancing around for Andromeda, who is frighteningly showing up less and less in my life; and four – simply replying him with a shrug. 'Oh, not much.'

He said, 'Hm. Okay.'

There was every matter of disbelief in his voice. Avery had never been a close friend; he was two years below me, a third year, but we Blacks were affiliated with the Averys, and he had always been kind to Andromeda and I (Bellatrix too, or at least until those summer holidays she decided to start practicing the Cruciatus Curse). I took a moment to compose myself, suddenly aware of how tired I must've looked, and gave him a convincing smile. 'I'm just a little tired. Lots of homework, you know?'

'Yeah.'

Of course he didn't really know, because he was only a third year. I was about to ask him what he, in turn, was doing, and we'd probably get into a lovely discussion about blood purity and welfare, when suddenly the Great Hall erupted into loud, explosive cheers. This usually happened on the morning of a Quidditch match upon the entrance of said Quidditch players, but this was no Quidditch match at all; even some of the Gryffindors were clapping reluctantly. Most of the Slytherins around us got to their feet. I didn't need to look up; I knew what had happened.

Lucius Malfoy had walked in.

Of course, I pretended to remain completely oblivious to this fact, and suddenly the Potions essay beneath my fingers became extremely engrossing. I mean, I had to hand it in to Slughorn by midnight, or he said he'd give me a detention. Of _course _I was intent on finishing it.

Which meant I had no interest in _Mr Slytherin Quidditch Captain, Hogwarts Champion, Prefect And Perfect At Everything Lucius Stupid Malfoy._ Through the corners of my eyes, I watched as he passed me by and took a seat next to Evan Rosier, who immediately cracked a joke and the whole group of them laughed.

Pft.

The whole school seemed to suddenly see Lucius as some sort of hero. I mean, sure, he was captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, their finest chaser in a fair few years (not that I knew much of Quidditch), and he was a school prefect. But Lucius wasn't exactly _popular. _Not outside of Slytherin, anyway.

I'd seen him punish first years before, deduct points from little Gryffindors, knock Hufflepuffs off their brooms. Outside Slytherin, Lucius Malfoy was hated by almost everyone – I even hated him myself.

And it was horrible, because I had to put up with him outside of Hogwarts as well. The Blacks had always been close with the Malfoys; every grand ball we attended, every gathering we hosted, every pure-blood social celebration we attended – Lucius Malfoy and his family were always there.

It was a worrying thought too, how close our families were. The thought was tiny, a nightmare in the back of my mind… but what if Mother actually wanted me to _marry_ him? She did talk of him a lot. And it was praising talk, too.

'Oh, what about that Lucius Malfoy?'

'Lucius Malfoy is over by Mr Rosier, Narcissa, why don't you go and join him?'

'Do you talk to Lucius Malfoy much?'

Bella, however, thankfully saw past Mother's horrible taste: 'You can do _so_ much better than him, Cissy.'

But the worst part of it all was that he liked me – Lucius Malfoy_ liked_ me – well, everyone said so, anyway. I'd caught him staring at me a few times, and once in third year he even asked me out, though I'm yet to discover if that was for real or just Evan Rosier's idea of a dare. Regardless, I refused him, and have no interest in uncovering the truth (or lack of) behind his feelings.

And just last night the idiot had been named Hogwarts champion for the Triwizard Tournament. I could see the basis of it: he was physically strong, fast, quick-thinking, intelligent and talented. And that was the whole stupid problem, because what if he actually did well?

Secretly, I found myself hoping he'd fail. Perhaps he'd get himself humiliated. Even killed.

Good riddance.

The first task of the tournament was in only two weeks time.

'Narcissa?'

It only just occurred to me that Avery had been trying to get my attention. I looked over. 'Yes?'

He laughed, rolling his eyes. 'And you're telling me you _don't _like Malfoy?'

Oh, great. Now the damn boy had entered what could have been our lovely conversation - what happened to blood purity and welfare?

'Like him?' I repeated, pulling a face. 'I hate him, you know that.'

'Mhm.' Avery began to spread jam on his toast, but he didn't take his eyes off me. 'That's why you were just staring at him, right?'

'I wasn't,' I said bitterly, scribbling down more words on my essay before my face could flush. I was almost finished. 'Hogwarts champion or not, I _hate_ him.'

Avery opened his mouth to reply, but shut it instantly. I frowned, looked at him – and then understood.

'Good morning, Narcissa.'

Lucius Malfoy was standing right behind me. I was going to turn around, but quickly caught myself, and did not even move an inch. 'It's Miss Black, actually.' Then I continued to write. _By stirring with the rod five times, the concoction should hereby turn a clear, pale blue, and…_

'Is that a Potions essay?'

I scowled, though unsure if he could see, and leaned over the parchment defensively. 'Don't you have interview practice to go to, Malfoy?' I asked, in my coldest voice possible.

He must have made a sour face, because Avery's mouth suddenly bottled up with laughter, and he forced himself to look at the floor. I heard Lucius clear his throat. 'Actually, I'm free this morning, and I was wondering if you'd like to go for a walk?'

I turned around and looked at him now. He was standing rather awkwardly, hands behind his back, sleeves pulled down, grey eyes on mine. His blonde hair was unusually messy today. I raised my eyebrows. 'Yes.'

He stared at me, open mouthed, clearly amazed that I was going to accept.

Or so he presumed.

'Yes, I would like to go for a walk,' I went on, 'but not with you, Malfoy.'

I decided I'd reached the extent of my essay work; I'd have to find Andromeda and ask her for help with the rest. 'See you later, dear,' I said to Avery, folding the parchment up and tucking it away in my schoolbag. 'I have to find my sister. Have a nice day.'

And then I was out the doors without another word, bag slung over my shoulder, Lucius Malfoy staring wordlessly after me.


	2. Hogsmeade? Pt 1

_Hey there! Thanks to the people who reviewed, favourited, alerted etc. already, I ADOOORREEE YOU :D You're like, little puppies wrapped up in red and white heart-shaped boxes.. ANYWAY, I promise I'll try to update as frequently as I can – it just might be a little bit inconsistent; school starts in a few days time for me. Hopefully I won't get piled with TOO much work :P Enjoy!  
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><p><strong>November 10th, 1970<strong>

It seemed impossible, in the coming weeks, to speak of anything other than the Triwizard Tournament.

Not that I found the subject unenjoyable, of course – I was perfectly happy to discuss Moreau or Bolstad, the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions respectively, or even speculate over what the first task would be. Some talked of monsters, some of flying (which I hoped wasn't true, because a little _someone_ spawned talent in that area), and some of horrible, enchanted places.

This morning, everyone's focus was on the three champions, because posed photographs had just been issued in the _Daily Prophet. _On the left of the picture shyly stood Alexandre Moreau, the Beauxbatons champion. He was sixteen, but had the height of a third year, with a rounded, freckled face and brown hair. His expression almost questioned whether he was supposed to be there.

In the middle stood Durmstrang's champion, Tora Bolstad; seventeen, the tallest, and hard-faced. She wore her dark hair in plaits and had eyes as cold as Bella's, though she was still somewhat attractive, dressed in crimson robes with an enormous pout upon her face.

And on the right, proud and handsome and arrogant as he came, was Lucius Malfoy.

_That _was the one thing I was unwilling to discuss. But admittedly, it was hard being in Slytherin, let alone Hogwarts, and avoiding conversation of "our champion."

It was even harder when Giselle, my best friend, started throwing notes about him to me in class.

Giselle Lennett was a pureblood Slytherin, like me, and also happened to be exceedingly pretty. Her hair was blonde like mine, though it was much darker and had more of a golden tone to it, _always _tied back with that little emerald bow. It seemed about the only tidy inch of her body; everything was all shirt hanging out, tie too loose, shoe buckles undone… The teachers gave up telling her off about it half-way through third year.

We were in Transfiguration when she hurled the paper aeroplane at my desk (or rather, enchanted it to fly) – and quite tactfully so too I had to admit, for it was about the only ten seconds of the lesson when McGonagall had her back turned. (Though I could've sworn she saw it anyway; Giselle received her undivided, dangerous attention for the following forty minutes.)

I unfolded her aeroplane with an unamused expression, no doubt awaiting some stupid remark or question that I needn't bother replying. Giselle was rather good at coming up with those.

_Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend? _she wrote. _I heard Luuuuuuccciiiiuuuussss is._

Yes, she liked to bring him up.

I'd lost count of the times Giselle had expressed interest in going to Hogsmeade – or Honeydukes, rather. I'd likewise lost count of the amount of times I'd heard of, or seen, people planning their dates around it. Not that there was anywhere else to appropriately plan a date while at Hogwarts – but it was only when my head started filling with visions of the little village, of going on a date with Lucius himself, of holding his hand and letting him pay for our butterbeers and walking through the snow, that I realised Giselle's note hadn't actually made a reference to anything remotely of a date in the first place.

Had anyone performed legilimency on me, I would've blushed.

Looking up, I caught her enormous, doe brown eyes across the room and mouthed, _no!_

Of course, that meant that I currently wasn't planning to, but she'd talk it over with me and convince me to go in the end. She always did. It also meant a big _no! _in relation to Lucius Malfoy – and then there was the slight problem of my History of Magic essay as well...

'Miss Black!'

I whipped around; McGonagall was staring at me.

'Yes, Professor?'

'Perhaps you would be so kind as to give us a demonstration of your _fabulous _skills,' she said.

I sat up straight and smiled for a brief moment; _fabulous _my skills were indeed – though I dare say there was a note of sarcasm in her voice. I truthfully hadn't been paying a single minute of attention to her, so with a quick glance at the board, I mentally noted what we were doing: transforming owls into opera glasses.

Fortunately, I was rather gifted at Transfiguration (well, _very _gifted, if I'm honest), and managed to perform the spell perfectly on first attempt. The owl gave a sharp little hoot, transformed, and there before me sat mahogany and brass opera glasses, perfect as ever.

The class sat awestruck, for none of them had managed to succeed yet; McGonagall's lips turned white. 'Very well done, Miss Black,' she said tightly, in a manner suggesting she did not think it were well done at all. She would've awarded five points to Slytherin had I not been mouthing replies at Giselle.

As soon as McGonagall's back was turned, I shot her a sneer, and then pretended to focus on my work for the rest of the lesson.

**. . .**

'Why can't we go to Hogsmeade?' whined Giselle, as we made our way down to the Great Hall for lunch. 'You didn't come last time – I had to hang around Bulstrode and that half-blood, and it was ruddy boring!'

I sighed. 'Why are you always so eager to go? It's nice and quiet here after everyone leaves, you know.'

'I doubt anything's going to be nice and quiet with an extra two schools here,' she noted. 'Besides, I ran out of Honeydukes supplies from our last trip, and I wanted to get more.'

'Of course,' I laughed. 'You could have just said that from the start.'

'It isn't funny,' she scowled, nudging me gently in the ribs. 'It's serious. I have no more lollies.'

The Slytherin table was difficult to squeeze into when we arrived, given half the Durmstrang students had decided to join us. There were a few spare seats by Evan Rosier and his group, but after remembering exactly _who _would be joining them, I pulled Giselle away to the other end of the table. I could see Avery sitting with his group of third years, and Andromeda not far away. That, obviously, would suffice perfectly.

But I accidentally bumped into someone on the way, and looked up at them to determine whether or not I should apologise (for mudbloods and blood traitors did _not _deserve it), and then my heart gave an abnormal flip.

Oh, _great._

'Don't worry,' Lucius smirked, even though I hadn't said sorry yet. I wasn't going to either. 'Care to join us?'

I opened my mouth to say 'No, no we would _not _care to join you; Giselle and I have prior commitments, thank you very much,' but she had already melted away at the sight of him and stammered, 'Of c-course!'

I could've slapped her. Sitting with Lucius Malfoy was the last thing on my list.

(If I had one, anyway.)

At the table, I wedged myself in between Giselle and Rosier to escape sitting next to Lucius himself, who then moved to the opposite side where he sat just as contently, helping himself to several sandwiches.

'Do you know anything about the first task yet?' Rosier asked him immediately, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice. 'I overheard a Durmstrang group talking about it; this bloke called Dolohov reckons it has something to do with the Forbidden Forest.'

'Really?' mused Lucius. 'Because I've heard it's going to be _inside _the castle.'

I scoffed before I could stop myself. 'It won't be. I mean, it's never been inside Hogwarts before, has it? It would be too dangerous.'

Lucius looked rather impressed that I'd made input to his conversation, albeit in a rude, sardonic tone. Rosier shrugged. 'Depends what it is,' he said. Then, to Lucius, 'Anyway, there's no need to worry, mate. You'll beat Moreau on anything.'

We all silent agreed, but no one said anything. Then Giselle clicked her fingers in my face.

'So,' she said, with a particular emphasis, 'Hogsmeade, yeah?'

Lucius looked over. 'Are you going?' he asked.

'Yes,' Giselle replied, shooting me a no-Narcissa-don't-you-dare-protest look. 'We _are.'_

'Only if I finish my History of Magic essay, actually,' I shot back. 'It's due on Monday, and if I don't finish it by this weekend then I'm staying behind so I can.'

She groaned. 'But you'll _never _finish it! You never finish anything in History of Magic.'

'Thank you for that,' I said bluntly. 'I do try.'

'Do not,' she giggled. 'You were asleep the other day in class, I saw you.'

She was right; I was horrible at History of Magic, and it would be a miracle if I could get the essay done.

'Yeah well, thankfully Binns didn't,' I remarked with a grin. 'It's a wonder he hasn't failed me yet.'

And then, the worst thing that could possibly happen… happened. 'You need help with a History of Magic essay?' Lucius inquired.

Oh, perfect, just what I needed: HELP FROM LUCIUS MALFOY. Thanks for that.

He was looking at me with his eyebrows raised, and I knew if I said yes he'd probably finish the entire damn thing for me, and I'd receive a much better mark than I would otherwise, and probably better than most of his own marks too. Furthermore, I could go to Hogsmeade.

But continuing to glare at his face gave me other ideas.

'No.'

Giselle apparently thought otherwise. 'Yes, she does!' she piped up. 'She's awful at it. She asked me to help her, but I can't; I have a Herbology piece to finish off myself.'

That was a lie. I hadn't asked her for help, and we hadn't had Herbology homework in over a week. I had the slightest hint she was either saying it to try and set me up with Lucius, or just to annoy me because she knew I hated him – probably both. I could see exactly where this conversation was leading.

'That's okay,' I began casually, trying to change the subject. 'I should probably finish my Transfiguration homework first, actually, I'm good at that… So what class do we have next, Giselle?'

But Lucius, stupid damn Lucius, persisted. 'I can help you with History of Magic, if you want.'

I stared at him. Help me? _Him, _help _me? _Who did he think he was?_  
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A Black does not need help – certainly not from a Malfoy, though my mind instantly filled with visions of my mother, which started blabbering things to me otherwise: 'He's such a respectable young man, Narcissa!' 'You should always accept help from a gentleman; and he is a pureblood!' 'Say yes, Narcissa, do not be impolite.'

'No,' I said firmly. 'I don't want your help, Malfoy.'

Lucius looked a little crestfallen. Rosier frowned at me. 'He's good at History of Magic, you know,' he said, clearly astonished I would turn him down. 'Did my homework every week for me in fourth year – I got full marks.'

Oh, I bet he did.

But admittedly, it was tempting.

I wanted to go to Hogsmeade, and I didn't want to be up late in the Slytherin Common Room trying to finish it so I could go, either. But then I looked at Lucius, who was sitting there, grinning there like an idiot, basking in his own praise like the arrogant fool that he was, and I felt like punching him in the face.

(But of course, ladies don't do that.)

So I stood up and snapped, 'For the last time, I do _not _want your help,' rudely in his face, and, 'I hope the first task involves a hippogriff, and you get trampled.'

And then I grabbed Giselle by the arm and led her back to the Slytherin Common Room, ignoring her complaints of leaving an unfinished lunch.


End file.
